


Top Gear

by Velvet95



Series: Pro-bending Circuit Submissions 2016 [5]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6651181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvet95/pseuds/Velvet95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pro-bending circuit - Round 4: A little competition can bring out the best and worst in all of us...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Gear

Asami reached into her engine housing, an aluminium feeler gauge gripped tightly in one hand, a screwdriver held ready in the other.  A small flashlight was clenched in her teeth as she squinted carefully at the exposed valves in front of her.  Behind her two judges holding clipboards and stopwatches were watching her work, ensuring no one assisted her and that she completed within the allotted time allowed.  She corrected a couple of valves weren’t precisely adjusted to half a millimeter.  Satisfied that all was well, she quickly reassembled the case then started the motor, rolling the throttle slightly and smiling as she heard the perfect purr of her engine.

The judges halted their stopwatches with a faint click.

“Seven minutes, twenty-one seconds to change a gasket and adjust your valves, Miss Sato,” said the taller judge, eyebrows raised as he peered at his timepiece. “Impressive.”

“Lots of practice.” She stood and stretched, rolling her neck and shoulders to loosen stiffness caused by three days of relentless off-road motorcycle racing and several bouts of being hunched over her motorcycle to keep it running during the brutal competition.

He chuckled in agreement.  “Well, I suppose having designed the Satobike in the first place is helpful for making repairs.”

The shorter judge made a note on his clipboard then handed it over for her to initial. “Well, your overall times have you in the top ten.  You might win this year!”

Asami merely nodded, ready to retreat to her support van and collapse.  She scanned the times listed then scribbled ‘AS’ at the top of the page.  “Thank you, gentlemen.  If you’ll excuse me?”

To her relief, they nodded pleasantly at her and strolled away.  With a practiced grunt she placed one foot on a peg and gripped the handlebar with both hands, leaning backwards with all her weight to bring the motorcycle back into an upright position.   Light for a motorcycle but still weighing over double her own weight, she was well practiced in using physics to help her wrestle it around, particularly important during competitions where she wasn’t allowed help.

The International Six Days Enduro was an annual motorcycle race, designed to test the riding and mechanical skill of the riders.  Support crews were limited to at most two people driving a van that carried spare parts and anything necessary for providing for the care and feeding of the competitor; food, first aid, a place to sleep.  Riding and all mechanical repairs were up to the rider.  This type of racing was not for sissies.

Asami had been competing in these races like these since she was sixteen, and for the past six years had finished in the top ten out of a field that usually numbered around five hundred riders.  She had made it her life’s mission to win, and if she managed it would be the first woman to do so.  This goal had completely eliminated any form of social life for her.  During the week she was the CEO of her successful engineering company.  Nights and weekends were spent wrenching, practicing or competing.

\-----

“Damn, that was fast.” Kuvira looked up from the camp stove as Asami wearily rolled the bike onto its parking stand next to their van. “I thought you had to fix an oil leak?”

“A successful experiment,” replied Asami.  She dropped her bag of tools onto the ground and sank into a chair.  “I’ve got different colored lubricant around each gasket.  Enough of the color survived to tell me exactly which gasket was leaking so I didn’t have to take the whole engine apart.  I adjusted the valves while I was in there.”

“Geez, woman, overachieve much?”

Asami let her eyes close. “I’m not achieving enough yet.  I’m only in sixth place according to the current standings, and I can’t afford any mechanical failures.”

Kuvira snorted in disbelief while carefully ladling a hearty soup into a large mug. “Here, eat this.  The rest of your dinner will be done soon.”

Opal emerged from the back of the van, a bottle of her secret recipe lotion in one hand and Asami’s Ugg boots in the other.  “Oh good, you’re back.  Let’s get your boots off at least.”

Asami sipped her soup while Opal removed her boots and socks and started massaging her feet and ankles.  Despite repeated pleadings she refused to tell anyone what was in the lotion, but whatever it was it was heaven on aching body parts.

Kuvira closed the lid of the barbeque after checking the state of the grilling chicken and vegetables.  “Anything exciting happen on the course today?”

“The usual.  Tahno managed to crash another two riders into the wall when we were going through the canyon part of the course.  He’s going to claim accidental clipping again but the way he’s going I swear somebody is going to kill him if he doesn’t get disqualified.” She smirked. “However, I happened to see him deliberately swerve into the rear wheel of the second rider just before waypoint twenty-six, so I was able to give a statement to the course marshals.”

“Ooh, nice,” Kuvira gloated. “Bet he’s going down now!”

“We can only hope.”

Opal growled as she accepted her own mug of soup. “The rider he ran into yesterday has a broken leg.  I gave his medic some of our painkillers today, hope that’s okay.  If a lynch mob forms, I’ll be glad to go along.”

Asami wiggled her toes contentedly. “Of course I don’t mind, we always bring more supplies than we need.  Oh, and the mystery new rider showed up again.”  She sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Still taking crazy routes that _nobody_ else is taking and doing crazy jumps and periodically swerving back onto the main course before launching in some new weird direction.  He’s able to pass a lot of people but I suspect now people are going to be gunning for him.”

Opal frowned. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Well,” said Asami reluctantly. “He never _technically_ gets in anybody’s way, but it’s really distracting and the rides are tough enough without some crazy hot dogger.” She took the plate Kuvira handed her and speared a potato. “And, if he misjudges one of those jumps of his he could well take himself and somebody else out.”

“If we’re lucky, he’ll land on Tahno,” remarked Kuvira, sitting down with her own plate.

Opal snorted and started to reply when a loud revving interrupted her.  They all turned in annoyance to see two figures a couple of rows down hunched over a motorcycle next to a battered blue support truck, one at the front holding the handlebars, one at the back kneeling next to the exhaust pipe.

“Run it again!”

Asami winced at the rough sound of the engine.

“Hey,” said Opal in outrage. “They’re not allowed to work on bikes in the pit!”

Asami pulled on her Uggs and started stalking towards the pair, Kuvira close on her heels.  She saw other riders leaning out from their campsites, warily watching to see what was going to happen next.

“Okay, kill it.  Shit.” The kneeling figure stood up, and Asami was shocked to see it was a woman, mocha-skinned with short cropped hair and piercing blue eyes.  Her companion was a stocky man with a cheerful expression, in sharp contrast to the scowl on the woman’s face.  The woman brushed sand from her pants then ran her hands irritably through her hair.

Asami came to a stop at the edge of their camp area and folder her arms.  Tradition dictated that no one entered someone else’s campsite without explicit permission on the occupants.  Asami looked disdainfully at the cluttered mess strewn next to their van and decided she’d stay outside of it even with an invitation.

“I trust you’re not attempting to make a repair here,” Asami said somewhat loudly.

The woman jumped and turned to see Asami and Kuvira glaring at her.  She glared back, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone. “No, Sweet Cheeks, but I do have to haul it down to the repair area so I can be stared at while I try to fix it.”

Kuvira growled. “Technically you’re already in violation by diagnosing a problem off the course or outside the repair field and having your boyfriend hold your bike.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Well that was not clear to me in the rules, so pardon my ignorance.  And he’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Nope,” the man said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. “I’m Bolin, nice to meet you!” He grabbed Kuvira’s hand and shook it enthusiastically before repeating the gesture with Asami. “Grumpy pants over there is Korra.  Don’t mind her.  She’s not dealing well with having to get up early every morning.”

Korra looked at him in complete disgust. “I’m also not happy about having to deal with your cooking, but here we are.  Except I’m leaving.  Later.”

She slung a large back stuffed with tools and parts and wheeled her bike down the row towards the repair field.  She did not look back.  Asami’s jaw dropped as she took a closer look at the riding gear Korra hadn’t changed out of yet.  She recognized the pattern.

“That’s the crazy rider!”

Kuvira reached over and pushed Asami’s mouth closed with one finger. “She’s kinda hot, but you don’t need to drool,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

“What?” Asami whirled and smacked Kuvira in the arm. “She is _not_ hot, she’s a pain in the ass!”

Bolin chuckled. “Yeah, she is.  Still fun though.” He leaned over a small cook stove and stirred what looked to be noodles in broth. “And she rides like a fiend.  Mostly she rides snowmobiles, but she does bikes every once in awhile.  To be honest, she didn’t really want to do this race anyway, so that’s not helping her mood either.”

Asami felt her jaw drop again, but managed to close it before Kuvira noticed. “What do you mean?  People _fight_ to get a spot in this race.”

Bolin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well, Southern Water Tribe doesn’t really do stuff like this, you know?  But the Chief decided they needed to send some riders once they heard there was a Northern team, and of course Korra had to do it to set a good example.” He shrugged philosophically. “Anyway, I offered to come help and keep her company.  I’m having fun anyway.”  He grinned, then his smile faded.  “I just wish I knew how to cook something other than instant noodles.  She’s pretty sick of them.”

Kuvira looked aghast at this. “She’s gonna die from malnutrition if that’s all you’re giving her.”

Asami struggled to not roll her eyes.  Kuvira took her job very seriously.

“Well, she’d probably forgive me the noodles more if I hadn’t forgotten to bring coffee,” Boin admitted sheepishly.

“Egads, man, what kind of support crew are you?” Kuvira demanded. “Come over tomorrow morning and I’ll spot you a cup for her.”  She ignored Asami’s outraged splutter. “Nice to meet you, I have to get this one tucked into bed.”

“Oh, does tucking them in help?” Bolin asked anxiously. “I’ve thought about doing that for Korra, but I’m afraid she’d hurt me.”

“Gotta man up about this if you’re gonna support your rider,” Kuvira said seriously, ignoring another splutter.  She winked at Bolin, then turned and pushed Asami back towards their own camp. “See you later.”

“Bye guys!”

“You do _not_ tuck me in,” hissed Asami at Kuvira a few minutes later as they climbed into their van.

“No, but I do,” retorted Opal.  She pointed at her massage table, waving her mystical bottle of lotion impatiently. “Get on, let’s get you ready for tomorrow.”

\-----

“Hey.”

Asami jumped and turned to see a very rumpled Korra standing behind her.  She was wearing nothing but boxers and a tank top, her feet bare against the chilly ground.  An empty mug was in her hand. “Bolin sent me over here.  He said you guys promised coffee”

“Aren’t you cold?” Asami asked, unable to help herself.

“Sweet cheeks, I live at the South Pole.  This is like the tropics.”

“God, don’t call me that.” Asami pointed at the coffee pot with a huff, and Korra filled her mug without hesitation. “And you know, you’re supposed to wait for permission to enter a campsite.”

Korra blinked and looked around. “Should I pretend to knock on the imaginary door or just break down the imaginary wall?”

Asami ground her teeth. “Do you have no respect for tradition?”

“I’ll avoid traditions that involve mental psychosis, thanks.” Korra gulped down her coffee, then refilled her mug. “Thanks for the brew.  See you out there, assuming you’re going to be anywhere near the front.”

Asami gaped at her, then glared. “I’ll see you eating my dust!” she growled.

“Ha!” Korra smirked at her. “It’s good to have a dream, Sweet Cheeks.” She sauntered off before Asami could some up with a good reply.  

Kuvira stepped out from the van and frowned as she picked up the coffeepot. “Hey, I just filled this.  How could you possibly drink all of it already?”

Asami groaned and banged her head against the side of the truck.  Opal stuck her head out and stared at her in concern. “Should I be worried?”

“Just shut up.  And get me some aspirin -- I’m already getting a headache.”

\-----

Her gear was soaked with sweat and her muscles ached from the strain of one hundred miles over rough terrain.  She had at least another fifty miles to go, but despite her desire to curl up and die she gritted her teeth and opened the throttle a little more as she saw a flash of blue and white ahead of her, telling her that Korra had managed to pass her again.  

This was unacceptable.

It went from unacceptable to downright mortifying when she crossed the finish line seconds behind her nemesis.  Asami dropped her bike on the ground, stalked over to Korra for the obligatory handshake, then turned to leave.  To her fury, Korra refused to relinquish her hand.

“What are you doing?” she growled.

Korra raised one eyebrow. “Ease up there, Sweet Cheeks.  We’re getting waved over to the podium now.”

Asami’s head jerked over to where Korra was pointing. “What are you talking about?”

“You got second place for the day.  You’re supposed to stand there and look pretty for the cameras.”

“I did what?”

“You seem surprised,” drawled Korra as they made their way up the steps. “Given that I was supposed to be eating _your_ dirt, I’m surprised to find you eating mine.”

The loudspeakers blared. “In third place, Jeong Li!”

“Suck it, ice girl,” muttered Asami, her tone dripping venom.

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first, but okay.”

“You insufferable piece of--”

The loudspeakers blared again.  “In second place, Asami Sato!”

Asami ignored the cheering of the crowd and the fact that she had podiumed for only the second time ever.  She was too busy seething.

“And today’s course winner, first place finisher--” Asami didn’t hear the rest over the roaring in her ears.  She scowled as Korra waggled her eyebrows at her while she accepted her prize for the first place finish, a mocking grin fixed firmly on her face.

Asami ground her teeth.  If that’s how Korra wanted to play it, _challenge fucking accepted_.

\-----

The course on day five covered two hundred high speed miles through rolling sand dunes.  Asami loved these sorts of courses because it emphasized pure terrain riding skill over the tactical jostling through the narrow canyons and trails required of the previous courses.  It should have been a perfect day, but Korra stopped by first thing to ruin it.

The rider had showed up again for her morning coffee, looking entirely too confident and sexy in her boi shorts and compression muscle shirt.  She chugged the entire pot of coffee, lobbed a few pointed jabs about Asami’s second place finish, then left with a smirk.

Asami practically snarled when Korra joined her on the starting line.

“I had fun with you yesterday,” Korra shouted over the rumble of hundreds of motors. “Thought we’d ride together again today.”

Asami lifted her goggles up long enough to glare at her nemesis. “There is nothing together about us, asshole.”

Korra responded by blowing a kiss and winking. “Enjoy my dust again today, Sweet Cheeks!”

“Oh, you are going _down_ ,” Asami seethed.  She resettled her goggles and blew out her breath.  She was going to beat Korra across the line or die trying.

Four torturous hours later she zoomed across the line in a full wheelie before skidding to a stop in front of the judges platform, watching with enormous pleasure as Korra finished a whole eight seconds behind her.  The dark-skinned maniac had forced her to a level of riding she’d never previously achieved, her fury driving her to go faster, take more risks and way more jumps than she ever had before.  They had even forced each other into one insane shortcut that had them riding nearly shoulder to shoulder up a shallow river bed, dodging boulders and each other while sending up rooster tails of warm spray, each attempting to soak the other.

Korra dropped her bike and ran over to Asami, picking her up and spinning her around.  “That was the most epic ride ever!” she screamed.  

Adrenaline still shooting through her body Asami hugged her back while around them the spectators cheered in excitement.  After a long moment, Korra dropped her back to the ground and they quickly stepped away from each other in embarrassment, Korra rubbing her neck and Asami fiddling with her helmet.

“Um, congrats Sato,” Korra mumbled finally, holding out her hand.

Asami shook it gingerly. “Uh, yeah, you too,” she muttered.

The crowd roared again as the third place finisher finally crossed the line, a full five minutes later.  Asami looked in shock at the clock then glanced at Korra who shrugged, a crooked smile on her face.

“Come on, Sweet Cheeks,” she said finally, putting her hand in the small of Asami’s back and pushing her forward. “We’ve got a podium to look sexy on.”

Asami immediately tripped.

\-----

“Hey.”

Asami looked up from where she was studying the next day’s course map.  Korra stood awkwardly at the edge of the campsite, clearly waiting to be invited over.  She was still wearing her riding gear, the upper part of her suit tied around her waist, wearing nothing else but a tank top despite the evening’s chill.  Asami felt herself smiling as she laid the map aside and waved Korra to a nearby chair.

“Respecting the invisible walls, I see.”

Korra blushed. “Yeah, I guess…”  She trailed off, then took a deep breath. “I, uh, just wanted to say thank you.”

Asami blinked. “For?”

“I know I’ve given you some shit cause that’s kinda what I do, but honestly riding against you has made this whole ordeal worthwhile.”  She scuffed her boot against the dirt for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. “All the other riders I’ve met are such jerks, and I didn’t really want to come do this anyway but my dad sorta insisted, pride of the Nation and all that bullshit…” she hesitated, then blurted, “Somehow with you, this started to feel fun, you know?  It’s almost like we’re the only two people in the race.”

Asami felt her cheeks warm. “I, um, know what you mean.”  She leaned forward and punched Korra softly in the shoulder. “If you hadn’t made me so mad I probably wouldn’t have placed first today.”

Korra laughed loudly and shoved Asami’s knee. “Yeah, I hear you.  You definitely make me bring my ‘A plus’ game.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, each staring carefully at the ground in front of them.

Asami finally forced herself to look up, and found herself staring into brilliant blue eyes watching her intently. “I should probably go to bed,” she mumbled, unable to tear her gaze away.

Korra licked her lips, then nodded jerkily. “Yeah, me too,” she said hoarsely.  She pushed herself up to leave, then her smirk reappeared. “I’ll be by tomorrow to piss you off, okay?”

Asami grinned despite herself.  She couldn’t believe how much had changed between them in a couple of days. “I can’t wait.”


End file.
